


Constant Ghost

by FrostbitePanda



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, I just really had a lot of feelings, One-Shot, Remix, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 14:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11899392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostbitePanda/pseuds/FrostbitePanda
Summary: She had noticed Cheedo flashing a thumb to Dag, one evening in The Solar, who had been fresh from a record number of peas shelled in a day’s time. Dag had spread her pale arms wide, fingers splayed and dancing as if she could capture her glory within in her own two hands.(Remix/Tribute tofadagaski's"Five Thumbs")





	Constant Ghost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fadagaski](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadagaski/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Five Thumbs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10936299) by [fadagaski](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadagaski/pseuds/fadagaski). 



Pointing a thumb upward did not mean the same thing in the lexicon of the War Boys.

Pointing a thumb up meant ‘ _lift me up_ ’-- this cargo, this vehicle, this engine block.

So, Furiosa was altogether confused upon noticing Max making much the same gesture to the girls. And the girls, kept safe from the War Boys and their diesel and oil culture, returned his signal in kind, not truly knowing what it meant. Only that Max had given it to them, and they liked Max and his gifts.

She had noticed Cheedo flashing a thumb to Dag, one evening in The Solar, who had been fresh from a record number of peas shelled in a day’s time. Dag had spread her pale arms wide, fingers splayed and dancing as if she could capture her glory within in her own two hands.

Toast had given it to Capable, upon hearing that the irrigation pumps on the millet fields were running again.

And, during her rounds, she had noticed it amongst more and more of the people. A good trade, a better ration of water, a flask passed from hand to hand.

She liked it, this constant ghost of him among them.

His absence had been a protracted one this time. Almost 200 days. The girls had fretted and fussed. She had found herself scanning the horizon a bit more than what was strictly necessary.

He was a frightful, kicked thing when he arrived. Jumping at almost every noise, red-rimmed eyes darting from shadow to shadow.

She did her best to comfort him, to get him calm enough to traverse the narrow tunnels to her room. He had never stayed here before, but she figured that if nothing else could make him feel safe, the locking door and the plethora of guns and knives may do the trick.

He stumbled into the room, looking around-- the walls, the ceiling, the small hole of a window that the room afforded. With every passing glance, his shoulders seem to fall, his hands unclenching. She closed the door behind her and made a big show of sliding the locking bar in it place and then back and then over again once more. He nodded, understanding, and the wild light in his eyes flickered out. He huffed out a breath, clenching his fists in his hair as he dropped himself onto the bench beside her work table.

She stepped towards him, still a little bit wary, cautious. They were silent for some time until his hands fell, loose and limp into his lap. “‘M sorry,” His voice sounded used up, as if he’d been screaming for days.

Something in her came apart at that. She knelt down next to him, trying to catch his harried gaze. “Hey.”

His eyes met hers and it felt like the flash of a chemical fire. “They said you were--” he stopped short, the words too weighty and dark for his mouth.

She shook her head, her heart simply breaking, again and again. “Max-- we’re okay. I promise.”

He nodded, still staring at the floor, limp and sodden with something she could not hope to understand.

She stood up, placing a careful and tender hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be back up with some food, okay? Then you can go see the girls, if you want. They’re dying to see you.”

He looked up at her and the expression inhabiting his face was strange and foreign. It seemed to her that he was wavering between gladness and disbelief.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” she said, unlocking the door. “I’ll knock three times-- one slow, two fast. Make yourself at home, Max.”

He nodded, looking numb and lost and she found herself making the gesture, the signal for ready that had somehow been transmuted to something else entirely.

He looked shocked, a bit perturbed and she briefly wondered if she had understood the meaning all wrong, if she had wildly misinterpreted and now just looked foolish.

Then his face cracking into a _grin_ , small and unbidden and he returned with his own upturned thumb like a salute.

She smiled, backing out of the room, feeling warm, feeling assured and comforted.

_So that’s what it means._

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why, but I've just always loved this story. And I love exploring stupid details like hand gestures and stuff. 
> 
> Hope you like it, dear. :)


End file.
